


If You Don’t Drink, How Will Your Friends Know You Love Them At 2:AM

by MissMoochy



Category: Daredevil (Comics), Daredevil (TV), Marvel
Genre: Drinking & Talking, Drunkenness, M/M, My First Work in This Fandom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-13
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 06:22:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,456
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25249849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissMoochy/pseuds/MissMoochy
Summary: Matt gets Foggy drunk so he won’t keep begging Daredevil to have a night off from patrolling.
Relationships: Matt Murdock/Franklin "Foggy" Nelson
Comments: 6
Kudos: 74





	If You Don’t Drink, How Will Your Friends Know You Love Them At 2:AM

“You’re jus’ tryna get me drunk so I won’t stop you patrollin’!” he yelped, pointing his finger accusingly. Matt calmly grabbed Foggy’s hand before his finger could knock his sunglasses off.

He was glaring at Matt through watering eyes, as they sat around a table in Josie’s. Karen had declined tonight’s excursion, and Foggy had secretly been looking forward to spending some one-on-one bro time with Matt. Getting drunk with Matt was a great thing to do. It was fun. Matt’s company was more enjoyable when he’d had enough drinks that he’d forgotten to be all brooding and Catholic. And when Foggy was full of liquor, enough that his stomach sloshed when he moved and his face burned with warmth, he was able to appreciate Matt’s friendship for what it was: pure, unadulterated awesome friendship. When Foggy was drunk, he could look at Matt and see a dear friend and nothing more and actually feel okay about that. His stupid lovesick heart wouldn’t rap out a telltale tattoo at every smile or brief touch of the hand. 

But now, this. Foggy had been getting increasingly worried about Matt’s vigilante work and had been a thorn in his friend’s side, he knew that. He’d thought if he bothered Matt enough, made him feel guilty, Matt might quit the gig and return to embracing the sedentary life of a lawyer. He was sick of strolling into the office in the morning to see his best friend having a face that resembled a bleeding slab of steak, okay?!

Apparently, Foggy’s nagging had affected Matt more than he’d let on because the whole night, Matt had been pushing shots into Foggy’s hands, toasting the firm, their friendship, even Hell’s Kitchen.

“Yeah, maybe I am. What are you going to do about it?”

Ooooh, that, that devil. Smug devil with his stupid sexy face and big dumb eyes and that smirking smile. Foggy could kill him. Metaphorically, of course. Matt would wipe the floor with him.

“Yeah, well, you’re drunk too!” He gestured widely at the shot glasses that covered the table, some of them Foggy’s, some of them Matt’s. All them glittering under the light and swimming in Foggy's eyes.

Matt’s smile was like a knife. “I’ve been drinking shots of  _ water. _ ”

Foggy’s mouth opened and closed several times like a fish, and Matt laughed, placing a finger on Foggy's jaw to push it closed. Foggy’s jaw closed with a snap but he kept staring, bug-eyed at his friend. “You’re, you’re a  _ bad man. _ ” he said emphatically.

“I know,” Matt said softly. “Finish your drink and I’ll walk you home.”

* * *

Foggy leant harder and harder on Matt as they made their way to the apartment. It was a meandering path that involved Matt dragging him out of the way of lampposts and parked cars.

They’d had so many nights like this, back in college. Of course, Foggy had been too drunk at the time to realise just how confidently Matt could walk when Foggy wasn’t _ able _ to guide him. It was stupid, really. That he’d never noticed. But then, Matt was a very good actor. Good at pretending to be a regular blind dude and good at pretending that those water shots hurt as they hit the back of his throat. Bastard. Foggy slumped against his front door, feeling Matt search through his jacket pockets for the key. Even the feeling of those quick, clever hands working through Foggy’s pockets felt good. He was sick.

“Surely you can taste the -- the metal in the key -- in the air or somethin’, Matt.” Foggy slurred.

“Hmm?”

Oh, maybe he wasn’t as coherent as he thought he was. “Nothing. Lead the way, Judas.”

“ _ Judas, _ ” Matt snickered as he threw open the door. He took Foggy by the elbow and tried to guide him in. The rest of Foggy’s body was unco-ordinated as his tongue, right now. He stared at his shoes and tried to place his feet forward, one at a time, but something went wrong, the channels between his cerebellum and the nerves in his legs became muddied because he tripped and face planted the floor.  _ Ow. _

Matt was at his side in a second, sure and light-footed, dropping to a crouch. “Are you okay?”

“Fine, fine. Just leave me here.”

“I’m not going to let you sleep on the floor. Come on, put your arm around my shoulders.”

“You trying to romance me, Murdock?”

“Oh, if I was seducing you, you’d know. Come on, bedtime for tired lawyers.” 

“You goofball,” Foggy snorted, but he gamely threw an arm around Matt’s shoulder. Matt got to his feet slowly, pulling Foggy with him. Foggy immediately listed to the side, but his fall was impeded by Matt’s grip on his shoulder. Matt looked so slight and lean, but he was a solid wall of muscle at Foggy’s side. Just another secret he'd managed to hide for God knows how long. Foggy lurched again, instinctively yanking on Matt’s tie for something to hold on to, and Matt must have lost patience with him at that point because he grabbed Foggy by the waist and picked him up.

“Jesus Christ, you’re strong,” Foggy mumbled.

“Language,” Matt remarked but that was all he said, steadily carrying Foggy through the living room to the bedroom. Foggy couldn’t remember the last time he had been carried. That was one of the childhood milestones that you’re not even aware of until you’re much older. The sensation of falling asleep in one room and waking up tucked up in bed. That feeling that it didn’t matter where you dropped, there’d be somebody stronger than you to pick you, take you to where you needed to be and tuck you in. He hadn’t realised he’d missed that. 

Matt threw him down on the bed and Foggy fell in an ungraceful lump. His hair was in his eyes and mouth, and he spat out strands, the sound made Matt laugh. The cheek! Standing there, laughing at him!

Foggy reached up, and grabbed at Matt’s shirt and the tail untucked itself from his pants. He used it to pull Matt to the bed and his friend surrendered to gravity, letting himself fall down beside Foggy. They lay there, shoulder-to-shoulder.

“You’re evil. Getting me drunk. I feel like Caesar right before he -- he became a human kebab.”

“But I thought you said you were Jesus and I was --”

“Judas, yeah! He was the betraying guy, wasn’t he? He showed Jesus up.”

“He didn’t  _ show him up, _ ” Matt spluttered and Foggy grinned, glad he was able to rile up that repressed Catholic, even while drunk. “He brought an armed mob and the chief priests and identified Jesus so that they could arrest Him.”

“That’s what I said.”

Matt tutted but didn’t correct him. “He had the signal that the one he would kiss would be the one they should take. He approached Jesus and said ‘Rabbi!’ and kissed him, to show them which one was Jesus.”

“Man, Judas sucked.”   


“He was paid off. Thirty pieces of silver. He felt bad about it, though. He tried to return the money but it was too late.”

“It would take more than that to get me to betray you.”

“I know,” Matt said and smiled. “It would take all the silver in the kingdom.”

“In the world!”

“And you would still refuse.”

They sat there for a couple of minutes, amicably enough, but then, there was a shift in the air and Foggy  _ knew  _ Matt wanted to leave. Not because he was growing tired of Foggy’s company but because the devil was rearing its head, rattling the cage, roaring to be released. Foggy knew when he was beaten. He knew he'd have to let Matt slip out and steal into the night. Busting heads and keeping innocents safe. The thing he'd been born to do. He just wished he could keep this moment going a bit longer.

“Why a kiss, though?”

“I don’t know, it was just what he did. It was a chaste kiss on the cheek, a gesture you would associate with affection being used to place someone in danger. Powerful stuff...”

“Mm. I guess you’ll be going now,”

“I...have to. Goodnight.”

“Hey, Matt?”

“Yeah?”

“I...I love you.”

“I know, Foggy.” Matt murmured. His fingers lightly traced the side of Foggy’s face, just for a second. Foggy wished he could nuzzle into them.

As Matt eased himself off the bed, the springs squeaking beneath him, Foggy felt himself sink deeper into a glazed, drunken stupor. It could have been his imagination or something greater, but he thought he felt just a feather-light brush of Matt’s lips on his. And then Matt was gone.

Foggy slept.


End file.
